


Preludes

by kiss_me_cassie



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-06
Updated: 2009-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:45:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9186839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiss_me_cassie/pseuds/kiss_me_cassie
Summary: Eliot has no patience for poems.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: none, really  
> Disclaimer: Not mine in any way
> 
> Notes: pookha was to blame for this, and so pookha was forced tokindly agreed to beta for me. If she just hadn't mentioned T. S. Eliot… Anyhow, thanks, sweetie!

When Eliot is twelve, Miss Christiano asks him to stay behind after class. Boldly approaching her desk, he demands to know what the problem is. She smiles and says there isn't one, she is simply intrigued by the untraditional spelling of his name and wonders if his parents named him after the poet.

Eliot shakes his head. He doesn't know.

That's when she hands him a book. "I thought you might enjoy this."

He grunts a thank you and, as soon as he's out of her sight, dumps the book in the nearest trash. 

Eliot has no patience for poems.

~~~

When Eliot is fifteen, the smug jock who sits next to him in English class mocks him for his name. The words are barely out of the boy's mouth before Eliot is rising from his desk, his chair toppling to the floor with a great clatter. He stands over the boy menacingly.

"I. Am. Not. A. Pansy-Ass. Poet," he grinds out, each word echoing loudly in the silent classroom.

The boy recoils, suddenly scared. The teacher calls the principal. Eliot is excused for the rest of the day.

No one dares mess with him for the rest of the term.

~~~

When Eliot is eighteen, he meets Piper. Five years his senior, a graduate student at some prestigious university, Piper is both rich and snobbish, a spoiled little girl. Her disdain for the uncouth horse wrangler is clear, but Eliot doesn't mind. He likes a challenge, and her reaction to him does nothing to deter his pursuit.

Eliot is nothing if not persistent. 

Eventually, he even manages to woo her to his bed. 

It's on their last night together that she places a book on his bedside table.

"Read it," she advises. "I think you'll like it."

She's right. He does.

~~~

Eventually, Eliot filches the poet's other books from various libraries and bookstores until he has a full collection, the first collection of anything he's ever owned.

Now, Eliot can recite all the words from memory, the poetry flowing like music from his lips.

_I am moved by fancies that are curled  
Around these images, and cling:  
The notion of some infinitely gentle  
Infinitely suffering thing._


End file.
